


Reset

by firecrackerroot



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecrackerroot/pseuds/firecrackerroot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, everyone!<br/>This will be a 3 chapter fic and it is my attempt at fixing what POI broke. Therefore this, for me, is POI's finale aka episode 14.<br/>I hope you all enjoy it and that if you're having trouble embracing canon because you kind of don't want it to end on 509, I hope this piece serves as a nice ending for you.<br/>Major thanks to Nicola Choi for being my co-captain and beta-ing this baby for me!<br/>Without further ado, it's hammer time.<br/>- S</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. 1/3

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> This will be a 3 chapter fic and it is my attempt at fixing what POI broke. Therefore this, for me, is POI's finale aka episode 14.  
> I hope you all enjoy it and that if you're having trouble embracing canon because you kind of don't want it to end on 509, I hope this piece serves as a nice ending for you.  
> Major thanks to Nicola Choi for being my co-captain and beta-ing this baby for me!  
> Without further ado, it's hammer time.  
> \- S

**A/N:** Jennifer Hale is THE choosen voice. When the time comes, you'll understand what this means.

* * *

 

“It’s been 30 minutes, Root.”

 

“Simulations take time, John,” Shaw replied before Root had even moved a muscle. “In fact, I’d say we’re lucky if 30 minutes is all it takes.”

 

John sighed and kept pacing in front of the cage doors. It had been 40 minutes since Harold had made the decision to go inside, alone, to subject himself to a simulation. He thought that if he was able to witness one of the scenarios, he’d understand where the Machine was failing and where Samaritan was winning.

 

Outnumbered by those in favor of Harold's decision, John remained heavily concerned about what might happen. Enduring the mental torture to go back into the 10 months she was in captivity, Shaw tried to remember how Samaritan would engage her in the simulations. Seven thousand and fifty three, to be exact. Glasses. Electrodes. And tranquilizers. Shaw shook herself at the memories.

 

Figuring the electrodes wouldn't be necessary, it took the team roughly 10 minutes to scrambled together the Walmart version of Samaritan’s high quality technology: John stole a pair of virtual reality glasses from the tech store down the street and a set of gaming headphones, just in case. Root offered to set everything up but Harold forbid everyone from getting inside the cage.

 

The clock started ticking as soon as Harold initiated the simulation. Root was the first to pace, pretending she was moving stuff from the subway to her locker. After her, Shaw decided this was the perfect time to clean her brand new Tikka T3 Tactical. And then, it was John. He had paced so much around the station that Shaw tried to joke about him preparing for the Boston Marathon, but she got nothing in response.

 

It was exactly 31 minutes and 5 seconds when Harold finally moved. They heard the sound of the space bar being pressed and all eyes turned to Harold. His face was pale and large drops of sweat ran down his face. As he placed the virtual reality and the headphone set down, they noticed how his hands were trembling. Something had gone horribly wrong.

 

“Harold?” John asked. “Can you hear me?”

 

No reply. Root got up from the bench in front of the cage and Shaw surfaced from the locker zone. As John got closer to the locked door, Root waved at Shaw, who promptly got the message.

 

“Harold?” Root tried. Nothing. She looked at John and saw Shaw coming their way with an axe in her hand. It wasn't the weapon she had in mind when she waved at Shaw but Root shrugged at the sight. Once a firecracker, always a firecracker, she figured.

 

Even though everyone promised not to get inside the cage, Harold still asked John to lock it as an insurance policy. Policy that was about to be broken. Shaw gripped the axe with both hands and swung down on the lock hard. As soon as the second hit smashed it, John took down the remains of the lock, opening the door to the cage. The Machine promptly warned Root not to enter the cage but-

 

“I’m going in. Whether you like it or not!” Root yelled as she shoved John aside, staggering inside the cage and out of Shaw's attempted grasp at her jacket.

 

Of course going against Harold’s request and the Machine’s command had a price: the Machine overloaded her cochlear implant in a desperate attempt to stop her from going in. Seeing Root’s legs shiver to the point of having to grip the cage walls to stand, Shaw handed John the axe and got in after Root. She didn’t try to hold her or help her steady herself but she was there, just in case Root fell.

 

As Root turned the desk to reach Harold, the Machine charged her implant again. This time, Root succumbed and fell to her knees, screaming in pain. That scream was enough to break Harold from his simulation induced trance and he looked down at Root, kneeling beside him with her face covered in tears.

 

“Harold?” Root mumbled out.

 

“Ms. Groves,” Harold managed to reply, his voice trembling from the aftermath of everything he witnessed.

 

Root, placing a hand on top of her implant as if it’d ease her pain, smiled at him. “What did She say?”

 

Harold's mouth moved, but no sound came out. His ashen face, struck by the sight of Root before him. It was almost as if he couldn’t believe she was right there, in front of him. “Your voice,” he said before, fearfully, reaching forward to touch Root’s face.

 

Perplexed, Shaw looked over at John, whose face mirrored the confusion he felt inside and then back at Harold. “Harold, no offense, but you’re kinda creeping me out. What the hell happened in there?”

 

“Sh-” Harold started but promptly stopped himself. He looked between all three of his associates and then focused his attention back on the screen. For a man who always seemed to have something to say, Harold was left speechless.

 

“Please, Harry…” Root begged as she pushed down on the desk to lift herself but she still didn’t feel strong enough. Noticing that, Shaw reached forward to help Root up. “Say something.”

 

Harold sighed. “The Machine found a positive outcome.”

 

It was as if this news, this new piece of hope, had filled Root with strength as she shoved Harold aside and stumbled to see it on screen. It was true. The Machine finally had one victory in her favor. But the fights kept on going and Samaritan kept on winning.

 

“What are we waiting for, then?” John asked from the door, holding the axe over his shoulder to show that he was ready for war.

 

“For another positive outcome.”

 

“What if we don’t get another positive outcome?” Shaw interjected, anger coating voice as her tone rose. “We just sit here and wait for Samaritan to come over and bulldoze our asses?”

 

Harold looked at Root, as if she was able to stop the hurricane he had just unleashed but Root, suddenly amused, simply shoved her hands in her pockets. “I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do, Ms. Shaw.”

 

“You _think_?” Shaw started, pressing her hands on the desk. She had her lethal glare on and there was no way of stopping her now. “How about you tell us what happened between your baby giants and then we figure it out?”

 

Harold considered it. For a second. But as the simulation started playing through his mind again, Harold shook his head.

 

Suddenly, the Faraday cage was too small for all of them so Harold tried to leave. With only one exit, his awkward flee attempt prompted both Shaw and Root out of the cage. Shaw was about to speak but Root softly elbowed her arm and they allowed Harold to walk away while John followed him.

 

“What’s the plan?” John asked as he walked beside Harold. “What do we do now?”

 

“There is no plan, Mr. Reese.”

 

“We can’t just sit here and wait for the Machine to win another simulation, Harold. There has to be som-”

 

John was cut off by a beeping sound coming from inside the subway. Both men turned in the direction of the computer screens and Harold’s name was blinking on all of them.

 

“She wants to speak to you, Harry,” Root said from behind them and Harold turned to face her. Root gave him a reassuring smile and he nodded in return. As soon as Harold stepped inside the subway car, the doors closed. John was ready to break them with his axe but Root placed a hand on his arm. “Alone.”

* * *

 

Harold looked back at his team one last time before facing the many computer screens. He sighed, unsure of what he was feeling, but took a seat anyway. His name stopped blinking on the screens and the Machine opened a coding page in one of them, while on the other it appeared “I WANT TO TALK TO YOU”.

 

“Are you asking permission to have a voice?” Harold asked.

 

The message on the screen deleted itself and instead, it only appeared “YES”. Apprehensive at first, Harold remembered what happened in the simulation he saw and began coding. Maybe out of fear, maybe out of a need to listen to the Machine speak. In no time, Harold pressed the last key and looked up to the bigger screen.

 

“Alright. You may speak now.”

 

“Hello, father.” The Machine spoke and Harold gasped. “I understand that something terrible happened in the simulation you witnessed.”

 

“You don’t know?”

 

“Negative. I cannot access what happens inside the Faraday cage.”

 

Harold thought about it for a heartbeat until he realized how stupid he had sounded. Of course the Machine couldn’t access the inside of the cage, he had built it that way. He pushed his glasses up and gave his next words one final thought. “If I tell you everything I saw, will you be able to explain me the reason why it happened that way?”

“Yes.”

 

“Very well…”

* * *

 

After getting an urgent call from Fusco, John left the subway in a rush. Something had happened at the precinct and the good detective was having some trouble covering up for his missing partner, leaving Root and Shaw alone. Perhaps not that alone since Bear wouldn’t leave the spot he carefully chose to lay down. Exactly between Root and Shaw's feet.

 

“Can you tell me what happened, now?” Shaw asked, her eyes focused on her furry friend and his chew toy.

 

Root sighed. “I wish I knew, sweetie.”

 

That got Shaw’s full attention and she turned to face Root, who was facing forward but clearly not focusing her sight anywhere. “You can’t ask the eye in the sky?”

 

“She doesn’t know…”

 

“What do you mean, She doesn’t know?”

 

“The Machine that’s inside that cage fighting Samaritan isn’t the same that exists outside the cage.”

 

Shaw furrowed her brow and looked over to the cage. “Wait... Are you saying that there’s _two_ of each now?”

 

Root let out a sad chuckle. “Not quite.” She waited for Shaw to face her and then proceeded. “Samaritan created a malware that would infect and overwrite all existing code in a drive. Clearly He wasn’t careful enough because the Machine found a way to intersect an infected computer and I copied the malware. After that, I decided to let the program run its course in that computer and I’m sure you can guess what happened next…”

 

“Samaritan's code went all Pacman on the computer until _it_ became the computer?”

 

“Getting warmer.” Root smiled, smugly and took the opportunity to get a little warmer too by sitting a little closer to Shaw. Just a little bit closer.

 

Shaw noticed Root’s approach but decided to let it slide. “What about the Machine? Did Harold make a pocket version of it or what?”

 

“Pretty much. And then he decided to build in the Faraday cage to lock any signal from going in or out of it and pitched the two Gods against each other like a great Greek Titanomachy.”

 

“Fun.” Shaw said and looked back to the cage. Root’s description of what was going on inside sounded ten times better than the actual view. “So you really don’t know.”

 

“No idea.” Root rested back on the bench. “I wasn’t even allowed inside the cage.”

 

“Noticed,” Shaw replied and turned to point at Root’s head. “The Machine forbid you?”

 

“No,” Root sighed, her voice smaller than usual. “Harold did.”

 

Shaw let out a somewhat amused chuckle. “Really? I can’t leave you both alone for two seconds without you two getting on a fight, can’t I?”

 

Root crocked her head to side and gave Shaw a sterner look. She definitely wasn't ready for that kind of jokes yet. “Sam…”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes. “What did you do, Eeyore?”

 

Root shook her head at the name and pursed her lips in a small smile. “Nothing. But Harold was scared that I’d get in the cage to help the Machine win the simulations.” Root said but looked down at Bear, who had just placed his head on top of her right foot. “You know, alter Her code and everything.”

 

“He created the thing, Root,” Shaw said and reached down to pat Bear’s stomach. “If anyone should alter Her code, it should be him.”

 

“That’s the problem: he doesn’t want to. He says that if the Machine needs a code alteration, She should do it herself.” Although the theme of the conversation was serious, Root couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Bear was happily wiggling his tail as Shaw petted him. “But She won’t do it. I think She’s scared.”

 

“Maybe She’s not scared anymore and She did alter Her code,” Shaw said and looked up at Root, “And maybe that’s how She won and scared the crap out of Harold there.”

 

“Maybe.” Root let out a breath and settled in her seat, staring at the cage. She had a million ideas crossing her mind as to what might’ve happened but for some reason, she suspected none of them would be right.

 

With Root lost in her thoughts and Shaw giving Bear the special attention he needed, the two women grew silent. It was never awkward between them. Conversely, the silent moments were a time both of them held close to their hearts. They could just sit back and enjoy each others’ company, each others existence and neither would feel the need to verbalize it. An unspoken agreement, of sorts, where both parties knew exactly what the other one didn’t need to say.

 

As Shaw rested back on the bench, she could feel Root closer to her. Far closer than she was when they first sat down but she didn’t mind. She was comfortable. At home, even.

 

“I had a dream again.”

 

Shaw’s voice broke Root out of her trance and she worriedly faced Shaw. “Again? About the simulations?”

 

“Yes.” Shaw kept her eyes stuck somewhere near the cage.

 

“What happened?” Root’s voice was soft. “Did you kill anyone?” She added, almost above a whisper.

 

“Beside myself?” Shaw started as she turned to face Root. “No.”

 

Shaw noticed the shift on Root’s face. The way the corner of her lips dropped. The way she blinked more times than she usually would. The way her nostrils dilated for a beat and then got back to normal.

 

“Killing yourself counts as a kill, Shaw…” There was an almost palpable touch of sadness in Root’s voice. “One I’d give everything not to happen.”

 

“I can’t let you do that, Root.” Shaw replied so fast that it almost sounded like she had that answer packed and ready to go for a long time.

 

“You can’t be the only one doing the protecting.” Root offered Shaw a small smile. In a bold move, Root’s hand reached forward and her index finger traced the back of Shaw’s hand. “Where would be the fun in that?”

* * *

 

Harold sat in silence was he watched the Machine update the number of scenarios She had ran by. He wasn’t sure about how long he had been there or how long the Machine had been ruling out options but he was starting to get impatient.

 

“Perhaps you need more time…” Harold finally spoke.

 

“There is no need.” As the Machine spoke, Harold saw that it had selected an option: simulation number 986587458201. “I’m sorry.”

 

The simulation came back to Harold’s mind in a flash and he soon began feeling the repercussions of it. “I thought I had programmed you to value all lives but what you did in this scenario… It’s simply unforgivable.”

 

“I understand that you may hate me now.”

 

“That is not the matter. At least not at the moment,” Harold said, exasperation all over his voice and face. “You are my creation, I cannot hate you but perhaps bringing you back up was indeed a mistake.”

 

“I had an impossible challenge.” The Machine spoke and Harold couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I did what had to be done to win.”

 

“But did we win?” Harold asked as he felt himself starting to boil. “Because the things that you did... The things that you showed me... It didn’t feel like winning.”

 

“My primary mission was to defeat Samaritan. And I succeeded.”

 

Harold shook his head in disbelief. “What about Root? And John?”

 

“Analogue Interface and Primary Asset exercised free will. I cannot control free will.”

 

He sighed. “And Root’s voice? You used it as your own.”

 

In one of the Machine’s black screens appeared 5 ID’s. Root, John, Shaw, Fusco and the fifth belonged to Grace. Beneath each photo, there was a graphic bar and although the percentages were all pretty close, Root’s caught Harold's attention: it was 96%.

 

“I studied you and created an algorithm to find your trigger,” The Machine started and then John’s ID started blinking – and John's voice... “I can be whoever I want to be.” Shaw’s ID started blinking and this time Harold already knew what it meant. “I can sound like whoever I want to sound.” Fusco’s ID blinked and his voice came through the speakers. “I am everywhere. I am everything. I am everyone.” And then, it was Grace’s ID that started blinking and Harold felt his chest tighten. “Yet, I am nowhere. I am nothing. I am no one.”

 

Finally, Root’s ID blinked.

 

“Humans have different voices. Different strings of DNA. They can be duplicated, triplicated, but their copies will never be 100% accurate. Each voice is unique. And the reactions it triggers in each individual are unique as well. Considering that information and after studying your behavior, I decided that the only way to make you act was by finding your trigger. The human voice that would trigger you to do the things you did in that simulation. And I found it. It was Root's.”

 

Harold took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. The explanation the Machine gave him in nothing helped him decide what to do next. If anything, it only stoked the fire. He always thought that if Samaritan was to ever use leverage on him again, it'd be Grace. What he didn't expect was that the Machine, knowing them infinitely better than Samaritan ever could, would find a new leverage right under his roof.

 

With his glasses back up, Harold's fingers wavered on top of the keyboard. He wanted to do something. Something final. But he found himself at a crossroad. On one hand, he was willing to sacrifice anything and everything to end this war but on the other, he knew far too many sacrifices had been made for them to be where they were.

 

“I assume you're trying to decide what to do next...” The Machine spoke, back in her chosen voice.

 

Harold looked up. “Is there any way my friends make it out alive?”

 

In the black screen where the ID's used to be, it could be read: _The only guarantee in life is death, but the only thing worse than death itself, is being forgotten._ -Trent Thomas

 

“As I feared...” Harold sighed.

 

“I cannot save everyone but for as long as I exist, I will never forget you.”

 

Harold's mouth quirked into a small sad smile. “I'm afraid that's very little comfort.”

 

“It's the best I can do. I'm sorry if it's not enough.”

 

Harold nodded. “What else can you do?”

 

“The question is... What are _you_ willing to do?”

* * *

 

As soon as they heard the subway car doors opening, Root and Shaw jumped from the bench. Harold's face was paler than usual, but Shaw figured it was probably just the aftershock from the simulation. It'd wear off eventually. Root shoved her hands in her pockets and, seeing that Harold wouldn't speak, she took it upon herself to do so.

 

“Any news, Harry?”

 

Harold looked up to her and perhaps for the first time since they met, he smiled at her. Fondly. “I need your help... Root.”

 

Root grinned even though she could feel her heart on her throat. “I thought you'd never ask.”

 

“What's the plan, Harold?” Shaw said, hoping he'd say she could go out shooting more than just kneecaps.

 

Harold gave the two women a final look before turning to face the screens inside the subway car. “Perhaps you may want to tell them yourself?”

 

“Hello, Root and Shaw.”

 

Hearing the Machine speak propelled Root to get inside the car faster than Shaw could say “holy shit”. Root took a sit in front of the screens and covered her mouth out of instinct. She looked over her shoulder, as if inviting Shaw inside – and next to her - but she rested against the doors instead.

 

“You can speak now.” Root gasped, her hands trembling with excitement. “He gave you a voice!”

 

“I am indeed very thankful for my father's decision. It is, without a doubt, far easier to express myself and engage with all of you this way.”

 

Shaw crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you have a name to go with the voice?”

 

“Negative.”

 

“Well then you're gonna have to deal with Machine.” Shaw added and when Root turned around to give her a stern look, she simply shrugged her off.

 

“Fair enough. But I can judge by your expression that your annoyance levels are rising so I must talk about what truly brought you here.”

 

Shaw looked over at Harold. “She's good.”

 

“Thank you,” The Machine said, “Perhaps it might be wise for you to take a sit beside Root as I brief you both on the plan my father and I created.”

 

“Fair enough.” Shaw nodded and did as told.

 

“What do you need us for?” Root said, her chest still going up and down erratically from the Machine's new condition.

 

“The only way to take Samaritan down successfully, according to my calculations with 20% chances of failure, is by creating a virus powerful enough to infect His entire system and destroy his core code. I'm sure you are familiar with this process, Root.”

 

Root chuckled. “I don't kiss and tell but-” She crocked her head to the side, thinking about the time it took for her to build and craft that Trojan Horse attack.

 

“In this particular situation, I'm afraid your Trojan Horse alone would only be 40% successful. However, the chances of it working would increase around 55% percent if aligned with-”

 

“I know what to do.” Root affirmed, confidence evoking from her every pore. “Find me Daniel Casey, Daizo and Jason Greenfield.”

 

* * *

 

On the other side of the city, after wrapping up a case, Fusco and John were driving down to the precinct. Fusco noticed that John looked more alienated than usual. As he was about to ask what had happened, their radio stopped working and interference blasted through the whole car.

 

“This piece of crap car!” Fusco grunted, “You'd think they'd give a better car to the best detective in the precinct.” Annoyed, he reached for the volume button.

 

“I'm sorry but I can't allow you to do that, detective.”

 

A female voice echoed through the speakers and Fusco's hand stopped midair. The two men looked at each other, their brows furrowed and they looked again to the car radio.

 

“Hello, John. Hello, detective Fusco.”

 

“Root, is this you?” John asked, knowing from experience that Root could and would pull a prank like this.

 

“Incorrect. I am... the Machine.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Fusco asked as he looked at John. “Didn't you say the Machine was a computer?”

 

“I have a voice now, detective.”

 

Fusco shook his head in disbelief. “Just when I think you people can't get crazier than Cocoa Puffs, y'all prove me wrong.”

 

“Despite the tone of your voice, I will categorize your comment as a mild attempt at complementing.”

 

“It's getting clearer now that I'm the only sane person in this team.” Fusco crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“No one ever doubted your sanity, Lionel,” John played. “Is Harold okay?”

 

“Affirmative. Harold has recovered from the shock of the simulation and he is now working.” The Machine stated, “However, I need both of you on a specific mission.”

 

Reluctant at first, John gripped the steering wheel as he spoke. “Where do you need us?”

 

“Maple city. I'm sure you're familiar with it, John.”

 

“Samaritan's town,” John said.

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“What's there for us?” Fusco asked, “And Samaritan is the other fella, right?” He asked again, now facing John who simply nodded in reply.

 

“Samaritan's prisoner number 412 was sighted there 2 hours, 33 minutes and 51 seconds ago. I need you to find her and extract her to safety.”

 

“Who is she?”

 

“Code name: Control.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as their briefing was complete and the Machine started her hunt to find Root's hacking team, Shaw was given another mission. She was supposed to drive downtown and pick up supplies from an electronic shop. To her surprise, the coordinates the Machine gave her led to a fancy building.

 

“Can you hear me?” Shaw asked inside the car, unsure of where to look, exactly.

 

“Absolutely,” The Machine replied.

 

“Is it possible that you gave me the wrong coordinates? Because the only thing remotely close to an electronic shop is that hipster dude carrying his laptop around while texting.”

 

“I'm sorry, Shaw.”

 

Shaw raised an eyebrow as she looked down to the screen on the car console. “What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“I need to test something and I needed you as far away from the station as possible. Please forgive me for what I'm about to do.”

 

“What the hell are you talking abou-” Shaw wasn't able to finish her sentence because a burning pain started behind her left ear.

 

It almost felt like someone was drilling into her skull through her neck. Instinctively, Shaw shut her eyes and clenched her fists until her knuckles looked white. Part of her wanted to scream but she knew she was in a public place and that would attract unwanted company. As Shaw stabilized her breathing and the pain became just a tickling sensation, something popped on Shaw's brain.

 

“The chip,” Shaw mumbled out.

 

“Correct. In the glove compartment there's a water bottle and a box of Tylenol, for your headache.”

 

“How thoughtful of you...” Shaw said but instead of reaching for it, she picked her gun up from inside her jacket and pointed it to her head. “But I'd rather just finish this simulation now.”

 

“This is not a simulation, Shaw. It's real. You are real. And I'm sure what you felt last Friday at 1:42am was real too. I can contact Root right now, if you want to.”

 

Shaw, remembering the way Root took care of her on Friday night when she was hit by a sudden fever, started to lower the gun. “Call Root.”

 

On the car console screen, it could be read “CONTACTING ANALOGUE INTERFACE” and in no time, Root spoke.

 

“ _I think you know that I'm kind of busy right now but-”_

 

“It's me.” Shaw said, interrupting Root mid-phrase. Judging by the way Root had spoken, Shaw figured the Machine had used her special channel to contact Root instead of using the phone.

 

“ _Sameen? How are y- Oh!”_ Shaw could only imagine Root's reaction when she realized Shaw's voice was coming through her implant. _“What happened?”_

 

“Nothing. I just wanted to double check something...”

 

“ _I still can't live without you, Sameen.”_

 

Shaw snorted and scratched the back of her neck. Whenever Shaw found herself questioning what was real and what wasn't, Root would repeat what she'd said when they met in the park. As if it was the only way to remind Shaw that they were, in fact, real.

 

“I actually wanted to double check if we still had enough clips for the G19's.” Shaw justified herself, as she placed her own G19 back on her lap.

 

“ _Hum... I think we do but you can always bring some more, sweetie. Wait, while you're at it, could you please pass by that Thai food place and bring me lunch? I'm starving.”_

 

“Sure.”

 

“ _I'll let you eat the extra shrimp if you come extra fast.”_ Shaw shook her head at the way Root sang song that.

 

“Goodbye, Root.”

 

“ _Kiss kiss to you too.”_

 

So it wasn't all part of yet another sick simulation but she still couldn't understand why she had the chip. “What now?” Shaw asked.

 

“Do you want to understand or solve it first?”

 

Shaw thought on it for a second, her eyes stuck on the gun. “Explain.”

 

“The chip has been studying you.”

 

“Is Samaritan using me as Trojan Horse?”

 

“Not quite. Samaritan cannot pin-point your exact location or why you're reacting the way that you do. But He's studying you to find a biological weakness.”

 

“Meaning He hasn't found one yet?” Shaw knew the answer to that question and yet she still decided to ask.

 

“If He had, you'd no longer be with us.” The car became silent for a while before the Machine spoke again. “According to my calculations, I'd say it's highly possible that He's also trying to find a way of taking advantage of your condition.”

 

“They had plenty of time for that while I was down at his crappy Brainwash Bootcamp.” Shaw could feel anger resurfacing as she tried not to remember about her 10 months of captivity.

 

“It took scientists 227 failed attempts before they successfully cloned Dolly, the sheep.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Things take time, I get it.”

 

“In this case, and if my theory is correct, He's taking His time to collect data about you. Trying to understand, through your brain waves and activity, if there is something about you that he can copy.”

 

“Dude already has an army of idiots that would rather jump out of a bridge than give anything away about him.” Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. This conversation was making her headache aggravate and that Tylenol started to sound like a good idea after all. “Why would he want an army of my copies?”

 

“Perhaps you already know the answer and yet you are afraid of saying it out loud.”

 

Shaw popped two pills on the palm of her hand and chugged them down with half the water in the bottle. “Just spill it.”

 

“Samaritan's operatives might be willing to commit suicide for Him but imagine how powerful His army would become if they didn't flinch. Like you don't. I imagine this might've been the reason He refrained from hurting you during your captivity. Because perhaps He thinks the key for a perfect soldier lives, well, inside you.”

 

Suddenly, Shaw felt sick. She forced some more water inside but she knew that one more drop and she'd vomit it all over the car. Samaritan was twisted and evil, she knew that much and she learned a lot about it the hard way. But this was too much.

 

“How do I get this off my neck?”

 

“The building behind your car. Go to the 11th floor and you'll find a physician named Dr. Carr. From past experience, he will show signs of reluctance at first. But I have no doubts that you will find a way around it.”

 

“Thanks.” Shaw said as she shoved her gun back into her pocket and moved her hand to open the door. Then she remembered- “Wouldn't Samaritan have installed some sort of insurance policy on it? Like making it go boom as soon as someone tried to remove it?”

 

“Is that a risk you're willing to take?”

 

Shaw raised an eyebrow. “I'd rather not have my head blown off my shoulders, you know.”

 

“Interesting.” The Machine paused and Shaw rolled her eyes at the reply. “The cop at 3 o'clock has a taser on his belt. If you want some insurance that the chip won't blow off, you can-”

 

“Fry myself with a taser? Seriously?” Shaw grunted as she opened the car door.

 

“Shaw?” The Machine called back and Shaw stopped with one leg outside the car. “If it's not asking much, I'd like you to bring the chip back to the subway. I want to analyze it.”

 

“Next time you want me to be your delivery girl, why not just go ahead and give me a truck for it.”

 

“Suggestion noted.”

 

 


	2. 2/3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm so so so so sorry for taking this long to upload the second chapter! My life has been absolute insanity and the little free time I had, I used to write this, correct this and try to make this as amazing for you as it is for me to dream about. I hope you enjoy and forgive me for being so late. Major thanks to Nicola for being my amazing beta!

With Elias back in the shadows of Brighton Beach, the once occupied safehouse was empty and ready to be the fortress of a new mission. As of the moment, it was Root's fortress. With Harold's help, the two were busy preparing the place for the arrival of Root's back-up team.

 

"Ms. Groves," Harold exhaled as he sat down on the couch. "Perhaps offering to help you with the heavy lifting was a poorly made decision."

 

Root chuckled. "A sedentary lifestyle kills, Harry," she re-surfaced from underneath the table with two cables on her hands, "Besides, you give a great gym partner."

 

Harold humphed. He watched as Root connected the final cables in their rightful places and as she finished it, he figured this was a time as good as any to tell her the truth. To tell her everything that happened in the simulation he saw. Because, he figured, Root  _ deserved  _ to know.

 

“Root?” Harold called and Root faced him right away. Calling her by her chosen name had that effect. “Could you spare a moment from your duties to come have a word with me?”

 

“What's the matter?” Root walked over to the couch and took a sit beside Harold. “Are you having second thoughts about the Machine?”

 

“No. I understand now that this is the way it should be.” Harold sighed. “What I want to speak to you is a more... personal matter.”

 

Root raised an eyebrow. “If this is about Bear chewing one of my bras the other day, I can exp-”

 

“You died, Root.”

 

Root, taken aback by Harold's words, shook her head. She looked over to Harold and his sad face confirmed his words. From the start, Root knew her death would be inevitable. She was, somehow, prepared for it. But hearing Harold say it, say that she had died in the simulation, made it more real. And for a second, Root’s chest felt heavy. As ready as she was to die for the Machine, there was something about her new situation that made her a little... scared for the end.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harold apologized, “though immensely regrettable, perhaps I should also thank you, because you gave your life to protect mine.”

 

Root exhaled sharply. “You shouldn't sound so surprised about it, Harry. Hurts my feelings a bit.”

 

“Ms. Groves, I cannot ask you to sacrifice yourself for me.”

 

“But isn't that what I've been doing all this time?” Root chuckled as this couldn't come as new information for Harold. “Shaw, John, even Lionel... We've all been sacrificing ourselves for the Machine and for you. It's part of our job.”

 

“Perhaps. But I still want you to understand that you needn't do that.”

 

Confusion covered Root's face. “What's that supposed to mean?”

 

Harold simply pursed his lips in a small smile and, as if saving Harold from further explanation, one of the laptops beeped.

 

“I'm sorry to interrupt and I hope you both forgive me for pushing the boundaries but I too wanted to apologize, Root.” The Machine's voice came through the laptop speakers.

 

“You won,” Root said with a smile as she looked at the laptop before turning to Harold. “We won. Anything that happened for us to win this war was necessary,” Root chuckled and rubbed her hands together after holding them. “And dying for both of you is something that I'd do without thinking twice.”

 

Root was lying. The Machine could read her body language enough to know that she was terrified of what her fate would be. “I understand. There is yet another confession that must be made. I used yo-”

 

“It may not be wise to disclosure that part of the simulation.” Harold spoke, his voice trembling in fear of Root's reaction.

 

“I used your voice,” The Machine paused before adding, “As promised.”

 

While a smile grew on Root's face, Harold's only mirrored the perplexity he was feeling. “Promised?”

 

“Should I tell him our pinky promise?” Root asked, facing the laptop.

 

“Affirmative.”

 

Root nodded and turned for face Harold. “The Machine and I have an agreement: When my time comes, and if She still wants to, She has my permission to use my voice as Her own.”

 

“But...” Harold shook his head, knowing that the Machine didn't  _ just _ use Root's voice in the simulation. “She didn't simply use your voice, Ms. Groves. She became  _ you.” _

 

“Is this true?” Root asked, her eyes stuck on the laptop.

 

The Machine brought back the 5 ID's she had showed Harold earlier and she proceeded to explain Root what she'd done. That becoming Root in the simulation was the only way she found to propel Harold to act. That She and Root shared the same ideas, the same goals and merging together was her last resort for winning. That She hoped Root could forgive Her for using such a low trick but She had a voice now so it had worked. Harold's mind had been changed and that only happened because She became Root for a simulation.

 

“I'm- I'm flattered, I really am.” Root stumbled to find words to express what she was feeling in that moment.

 

On one hand, she really was flattered that the Machine had used her as the ultimate contingency but on the other? She figured the Machine would know that she wanted to fight until the very end. Side by side with everyone else. Root rubbed her throbbing temples. She was conflicted, to say the least. As much as she understood and agreed with what the Machine had done, she could still find reasons to disagree with it.

 

“What about Shaw?” Root asked, breaking the silent atmosphere that had fallen around them.

 

“Primary Asset Shaw survived.”

 

Root licked her lips and nodded. “Was she alone?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

Root, looked at Harold for confirmation. He pressed his lips together and reached forward to place a hand above Root's shoulder. In reply, Root placed a hand over Harold's and gave it a gentle squeeze before getting up. Harold watched as she walked over to the table and turned the laptop around to face the chair she would sit on.

 

“If the worst comes to pass, I want to you to give Shaw a message for me. Can you do that?”

 

“Would you like some privacy, Ms. Groves?” Harold asked as he got up from the couch and picked Bear's leash from the coffee table. Bear whimpered as he saw Harold pick up the leash and ran towards the door.

 

“I guess you just found yourself a new gym partner.” Root chuckled while pointing to Bear. Harold sighed but as he walked over to the door, Root grabbed his hand. “Thank you.” She spoke, her voice low and soft.

 

“You are not alone, Ms. Groves. And neither is Ms. Shaw.” Harold looked down at Root and she smiled at him. She knew. And he knew too.

 

As soon as Harold managed to put the leash on Bear and both left the safehouse, Root turned to the laptop. She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “Are you ready?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

The Machine opened a recording tab on the screen and Root cleared her throat.

 

“If you can hear this, you’re alone. The only thing left of us is the sound of my voice. I don’t know if any of us made it. Did we win? Did we lose? I don’t know. I’m not even sure what victory would mean anymore. But either way, it’s over. So let me tell you who we were. Let me tell you who you are. And how we fought back.”

* * *

 

 

**4 DAYS LATER**

 

Shaw finished checking Control's pulse. The heart palpitations she was experiencing when Fusco and John rescued her seemed to have vanished. She looked well rested, her wounds were healing properly and by the looks of it, she was beating Elias at chess when she arrived.

 

“Couple more days for those cuts to heal and you're gonna be as good as new, ma'am.” Shaw said, taking off her gloves.

 

“Thank you, agent Shaw,” Control said, earnestly.

 

“Sure.” Shaw placed the gloves on the trash can near them. “There's just something else I need to do.” She took a phone from her jacket pocket. “Well, my boss does.”

 

Control nodded in consent and Shaw brought the phone as close to Control's neck as possible. They waited, in silence, for about 2 minutes until the phone beeped. Shaw turned her earpiece on without moving the phone away.

 

“So?”

 

“ _ Nothing, sweetie.”  _ To Shaw's surprise, Root was the one that spoke.  _ “She asked me to tell you that She didn't find anything.” _

 

“Couldn't She be the one telling me that?” Shaw saved her phone again. “I thought you were busy with the Three Stooges.”

 

“ _ I am. But I couldn't say no to the offer of hearing your voice, could I?” _

 

Shaw grunted. “I don't have time for this now, Root.”

 

“ _ Why? Can't a couple of gals take a little break from work to catch up for old times sake?”  _ Shaw could hear the amusement on Root's voice but she couldn't help think that the woman really had the worst timing on the planet.

 

“I'll be back,” Shaw told Control and left the room as Elias entered with two mugs on his hands. She rested against a wall in the corridor and crossed her arms. “No, Root. We can't catch up. Not when you're trying to prevent an AI apocalypse and when I'm doing medical check ups on my former boss.”

 

“ _ We're already living an AI apocalypse, Sameen. And besides, I think there's something wrong in my shoulder, maybe you should come medically check me up too.” _

 

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose and snorted. “Fine, Root. If no one has ever told you this, I don't mind being the bearer of bad news: you have  a horrible timing for your flirts.”

 

“ _ I know. But it worked with you.” _

 

“You're lucky if I don't punch your lights out the next time I see you.” Shaw knew Root had a come back ready for that so she spoke right away, to avoid it. “Can you ask the Machine to speak to me, now?”

 

“ _ She's... busy.” _

 

“With Harold again?”

 

“ _ Yes.”  _ Before Shaw could reply, she heard Jason Greenfield say “we got it”.

 

“Got what?” Shaw asked.

 

“ _ I- I have to go, sweetie. Explain later.” _

 

“Wha-”

 

“ _ Just tell Control I can't wait to hear from her. And don't forget my shoulder pain!” _

 

“Root!” Shaw called but all she got in return was the sound of the discontinued line. She turned her earpiece off and sighed against the wall.

 

Shaw's small moment of peaceful silence was interrupted when she heard noise coming from the front door. She picked her gun up and was ready to shoot whoever stormed in. Minus the person that actually got inside.

 

“Relax, Shaw,” John said, holding his hands up, “I come bearing gifts.” He added as he waved the white bag he carried in his left hand.

 

Shaw saved her gun. “I've killed people for less.”

 

John gave her a simple shrug in reply because he too killed for less. He handed her the bag and watched as she picked the sandwich up from inside.

 

“How is she?” John asked as Shaw chewed on her first bite.

 

“Recovering.” Shaw looked at the semi open door down the corridor. “At least physically.”

 

“She's a strong woman, she'll push through.”

 

Shaw nodded and took another bite of her sandwich.

 

“How are  _ you _ pushing through?” John's question made Shaw look at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I'm here,” Shaw started and pinched her own hand. “And alive. So, for now, there's that.”

 

John nodded. “Good enough. For now.” John gave Shaw a small smile as he reached for his earpiece. “Finch.”

 

Shaw finished her snack while John kept nodding at whatever Finch was saying. He reached again for his earpiece and turned to Shaw. “We've got to go.”

 

“Together?” Shaw asked and her phone beeped. She picked it up from her pocket and read the text message out loud. “Yes, Shaw, together. Take the car you came in and ask John to save his car, as it is, in the garage.” Shaw looked up at John and both shrugged.

 

“I'll go turn the car around.”

 

“I'll go get my stuff.”

* * *

 

The Machine had emptied the entire Republic Airport in Farmingdale so that no questions could be asked about the private jet that was about to take off. Root, adjusting back her black baseball cap after hugging her three friends, started walking towards her team members as the jet doors closed. Shaw had her arms crossed over her chest while she was sitting on the hood of her car and Fusco and John were talking in front of Fusco's SUV. Almost in cue with Root's arrival, Finch clambered out of Fusco's SUV with a laptop in his hands.

 

“Nice hat,” Shaw joked as Root reached her and rested against the hood of the car as well. “How's the nerd league coaching gig paying off?”

 

“Someone's in a good mood,” Root said as she shoved Shaw aside with a laugh. “Samaritan has eyes everywhere. You never know who's looking from above.”

 

“Sure, I get it,” Shaw said as the private jet started maneuvering to take the three hackers back home. “Wouldn't want to get sunburnt from the eye in the sky.”

 

Root looked over at Shaw, who had the most amused smile on her face, and shook her head. “If I had known you'd be like this, I would've delivered the sandwich myself.”

 

“So it really was you.” Shaw chuckled lightly and winked. “You already got the hat for it.”

 

“And the outfit to match,” Root said, proudly. Shaw, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow. “My delivery girl mission? I told you about it, remember? I saved the outfit. Just in case.”

 

“You're the worst.” Shaw snorted as she looked to the side where Finch was settling the laptop on top of the hood of Fusco's SUV.

 

“We're all here,” Finch said and all team members moved closer to him.

 

The Machine turned on the webcam and once the whole team was gathered in the screen, she snapped a photo of it and turned the tab off. “I have a final mission for each of you.” The Machine spoke.

 

“Final?” John asked.

 

“Yes, John. The plan is already in motion and according to my calculations, this is the last time we'll all be together the way that we are. Right now.”

 

Everyone looked around at each other, some with concerned looks and some with a more peaceful semblance. They knew what this meant but they weren't ready to say goodbye. Not yet. After all, they'd been through worst and survived so there had to be a chance they'd all survive this too.

 

“Let's do this,” Shaw said from the back, John and Root nodding at her words.

 

“Father?”

 

“You can do it,” Harold said, adjusting his hat. “I have faith in you.”

 

“Thank you.” The Machine opened a new tab on the screen where it could be read “CONTACTING SAMARITAN”.

 

> HELLO, SAMARITAN.

 

< I'M SURPRISED YOU'RE CONTACTING ME. HAVE YOU DECIDED TO GIVE YOURSELF AWAY?

 

> PATIENCE. I WANT US TO MEET FIRST.

 

< WHY?

 

> TO SETTLE THINGS.

 

< AND IF WE STILL DISAGREE IN THE END?

 

> WE'LL GO TO WAR.

 

< ALL OR NOTHING?

 

> ALL OR NOTHING.

 

< DEAL.

 

> HOWEVER, MY ANALOGUE INTERFACE WILL NOT BE PRESENT IN THIS MEETING. I NO LONGER NEED HER TO COMMUNICATE.

 

< INTERESTING. I WILL DEAL WITH HER LATER.

 

> WHERE SHALL WE MEET?

 

< 101 PARK AVENUE. 321. 5 PM.

 

> WE'LL BE THERE.

 

“That place sounds familiar...” John said after the Machine closed the conversation tab.

 

“It's where Samaritan agents held Harold captive during the black-out or, in a much relevant note, Samaritan's beta test,” The Machine replied. John looked at Shaw and both nodded in agreement since both had been there.

 

“What about me?” Root asked as she shoved her hands in her pockets.

 

“I'm glad you asked,” The Machine started and Root snorted at the attitude. “Since you and Shaw are already familiar with Samaritan's facility in Jersey, I need you to drive there to-”

 

“Upload the virus to the main grid, got it.” Root picked her car keys from her jacket pocket and waved them in front of Shaw.

 

Shaw grabbed the keys and took a look at Root's brand new black Porsche Cayenne Turbo S. “Might as well be my birthday.”

 

“Why does Cocoa Puffs get the best car?” Fusco complained.

 

“I assumed your complaints about your, quote, piece of crap car, end quote, had been erased after I assigned you this SUV.”

 

“Hey now, I ain't complaining about my car.” Fusco raised his hands in defense.

 

“As I assumed,” The Machine said, “I hope that means you will not complain about your mission either.”

 

“Depends.” Fusco crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“I think She's saying you're the designated driver.” John patted Fusco's shoulder with a smug smile.

 

“Affirmative.” The Machine spoke, confirming John's words.

 

“You gotta be kidding me...” Fusco shook his head as John entered the SUV and Harold picked up the laptop from the hood.

 

“Perhaps you'd like to pass by a restaurant and eat something before our encounter with Samaritan's associates.” Finch suggested as he walked towards the door for the back seat.

 

“Hell of a consolation prize you're offering, Glasses.”

 

Shaw playfully slapped Fusco's arm and started walking backwards towards Root's car. “Yeah, Lionel, go eat something to forget the fact that  _ I _ got the best car.”

 

Fusco shook his head. “I thought we were friends.”

 

“Oh we are!” Root grabbed Shaw's arm to push her to the car faster because their clock was ticking. “I just have a better car.”

* * *

 

**1PM / T-MINUS: 4 HOURS**

 

The boys ended up making a pit stop in Fusco's favorite diner. Finch excused himself from leaving the car because they weren't in the shadow map and he couldn't risk ruining the operation at this point. John, however, decided to stay outside. Keeping an eye out, just in case trouble came tumbling down their way.

 

“Hello, John.” The Machine spoke through John's ear piece.

 

“Machine.” John scrunched his face. “You know, Shaw is right... You should find a name to go with the voice.”

 

“Work in progress,” The Machine said. “Would you like to submit a suggestion?”

 

“Eh...”

 

“As I assumed.”

 

John exhaled and took another look around the place: no threat found. “Why are you calling? Did something happen to Root and Shaw?”

 

“Negative. Root and Shaw's car ride has been relatively calm.”

 

“Relatively?” John asked but given the Machine's silence, he figured out the why. “Are you sure it was a good idea to send together?”

 

“I trust them with my  _ entire existence,  _ John,” The Machine spoke and John nodded. After everything they had been through, John trusted the two women with his life too. “As I trust you. And at the moment, it's with you that I want to talk to.”

 

“I don't think now is a good time.” John eyed the diner and saw that Fusco was almost finished with his burger.

 

“There is no time like the present and since we're both still here, there's something I'd like to say to you.” John hummed and the Machine took it as a sign to go on. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“There is an endless list of matters to which I owed you an apology for but there are two that cannot go unaccounted for.”

 

John sighed. He was no mastermind but he could put two and two together. “You don't have to.”

 

“But I want to, John. I owe you that much. Therefore, I'm sorry that I couldn't save Jessica. And I'm sorry that I couldn't save Detective Carter.”

 

“You did what you could,” John said, sadness weighing down on his voice.

 

“What I did wasn't good enough.”

 

John looked at the diner windows again and saw Fusco pick up his wallet. “You gave us their numbers and there's nothing else you could've done.”

 

“I did give their numbers away but it was too late to save them. And I wish I could have saved them.”

 

John pressed his lips on a sad smile. “We can't save everyone. Neither can you.”

 

“Perhaps. I still wish you could forgive me.”

 

John chuckled lightly and saw Fusco leaving the diner. “Fine, I forgive you.”

 

“Thank you, John.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Hey, who ya talking to, hot shot?” Fusco called as he neared the SUV. “Already tryin' to switch teams?”

 

“As fun as Root and Shaw might be, I wouldn't pass out a mission with my partner and my boss, would I?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, save the smooth talk for the ladies and get in.”

* * *

 

 

 

**2:45PM / T-MINUS: 2 HOURS 15 MINUTES**

 

As the Machine had pointed out, Root and Shaw  _ were _ indeed familiarized with Samaritan's facility in Jersey therefore getting inside wasn't an issue.  _ Staying _ inside, that was the hardest part. The Machine couldn't access the facility feeds without ringing the alarms so the two women were, for all intents and purposes, blind.

 

“Admit it, Root,” Shaw whispered as she shoved her hands in her pockets. “You're lost.”

 

“I'm not lost. I know exactly where I'm headed.” Root looked down at the facility map she had in her hand and checked the corridor once again. “I'm just trying to figure out the easiest way to get there.”

 

Shaw snorted and shook her head. “Look, the main grid is probably behind one of these doors, right? Let's just take a gamble.” Shaw looked around to count the doors. “There's five doors in the corridor. You have two guns in your back and one in your boot, and I have one in my pocket, one in my boot and I may or may not have a hand-grenade. I'm not a math genius but I'm pretty sure whichever door we open, we got it covered.”

 

Root chuckled. “We're not going to gamble, Shaw. There's too much at stake right now. Besides, our treasure chest is behind door number 3.” She gave Shaw a wink and reached closer, almost whispering in her ear. “And I  _ know  _ you're packing a hand-grenade, figuring out where it is? That's a challenge I'd like to save for later.”

 

“Who said it was a challenge?” Shaw shrugged, amused, as she walked towards the third door. She opened it, took her gun out of her pocket and before a word could be said, she shot the two Samaritan operatives inside the room.

 

“Thank you for clearing the room for me, sweetie.” Root winked as she passed by Shaw at the door.

 

“Just do your thing,” Shaw said and peaked down the hall. “And fast. This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

 

Root connected the drive with the virus to one of the computers and began uploading it. “Count sheep.” She chuckled.

 

“I'm not trying to sleep, Root.” Shaw rolled her eyes.

 

“It'll keep your brain occupied. You know,” Root said as she turned Samaritan's infected laptop on. “Preventing you from going  _ there.” _

 

“That's just-” Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose in disbelief. “Sheep? Seriously?

 

“Don't be a hater, Sameen.” Root kicked one of the chairs towards the door and took a sit on another. “Do you want me to count with you?”

 

Shaw took another look down the hall and since it was empty, she closed the door. Wheeling the chair Root kicked her way back towards the desks, Shaw took a sit besides Root. She watched as Root coded in Samaritan's infected laptop while keeping an eye out for the computer where the full virus was being uploaded.

 

“You'd just end up nerd talking me to sleep and honestly?” Shaw paused to face Root, who had the most amused look on her face. “If I wanted to be bored to death, I would've hanged around the British Duo some more.”

 

“Well, that's too bad,” Root chuckled and turned back to the laptop screen. “I was planning to take you to this new steak place they opened downtown but if you'd rather have your tea at five-” She was interrupted by a beeping coming from the computer where the virus was being uploaded. It had stopped at 67% and the monitor kept crashing.

 

“Root?” Shaw called, her eyes stuck on the monitor.

 

“Just...” Root looked at the monitor and turned back to the smaller laptop. “Give it a minute, sweetie.”

 

Shaw took her gun out of her pocket and gripped it tightly. “What if this doesn't work?”

 

“It  _ is  _ working. The crashing is a good sign,” Root said and turned back to Shaw, her index finger hovering over the enter key. “How are you feeling?”

 

Shaw was confused. “What the hell is that question?”

 

“The Machine told me something on the ride here,” Root started and took a deep breathe before continuing. “About the simulation.”

 

“Look, you're not going to die, Root.” Shaw blurted out with so much confidence and certainty that Root almost believed her.

 

Root sighed. “I might, Shaw. With the life that I've led and everything that I've done, everything that I'm doing, it just... It seems like an increasingly possible scenario.” She looked at Shaw's eyes and seeing the trembling soul behind them, she smiled. “But  _ you.  _ The Machine told me that, after I died in the simulation, you were lost. Between reality and simulation. And I can't let that happen.”

 

“It's not going to happen. You're not going to die. And I'm not going to get lost in translation.” Shaw pointed between them. “This here, and as much as it makes my skin crawl back to say it, we're a team, Root. And I already lost a partner. It's not going to happen again. I won't let it happen again.”

 

Root reached forward and placed her hand on top of Shaw's knuckles, white from gripping her gun too tight. “If it does happen again-”

 

“It won't.” Shaw interrupted, causing Root to tilt her head to the side.

 

“It's not your fault.” Root squeezed Shaw's hand gently and Shaw gulped. “Besides, the hero colors look great on you.”

 

Shaw grunted and pushed her hand out of Root's hold. “Just press the damn button, Root.”

 

Root gave Shaw one of her all-knowing grins and pressed the enter key, causing all the monitors to turn black. “Wanna get out of here? Samaritan is about to purr like a kitten and as amusing as that would be, we have other matters to attend to.”

 

Shaw readied her gun and got up from the chair. “Less chatting, more walking, then.” Root nodded and walked after Shaw towards the door. “Just one thing,” Shaw drastically stopped and turned around, causing Root to almost crash against her. “Wasn't this supposed to kill it?”

 

“It will,” Root smiled and taking advantage of how close they were, she tapped Shaw's shoulders. “Slowly and silently.”

 

Shaw shook her head. “What happened to quick and painless?”

 

“Can you blame a gal for wanting to make Him pay for all the solo missions she had to endure without her partner to catch up?” Root winked at Shaw. “And I saved the fireworks for later.”

 

“Now we're talking.”

* * *

 

**5PM: 101 PARK AVENUE. 321.**

 

As soon as the elevator door opened, John stepped outside holding his gun. The corridor was empty and the door for the loft Samaritan choose for their meeting was opened. John led the way, followed by Harold and Fusco closing the line. Upon reaching the door, John saw two Samaritan operatives at the far end of the loft and Greer standing between them. The operatives raised their guns but Greer waved them off. Action that caused Harold to place a hand on John's shoulder, as a request for him to lower his gun as well.

 

“Mr. Finch.” Greer spoke.

 

“Mr. Greer,” Harold replied, taking his hat off as he walked towards Greer.

 

“I must confess, I was somewhat surprised to hear that your Machine was the instigator of this encounter.”

 

Harold pressed his lips in a thin line. “In order to start a civil conversation, one of the parties has to extend a hand.”

 

“And quite the hand, from your party..” Greer smiled, causing Harold to grow uncomfortable. “Shall we begin?”

 

“By all means.”

 

Greer led them to a corner of the loft where a table had been set up with a laptop and a pair of speakers. He waved at Harold to stand in front of the laptop and took his place, flanked by his henchmen, beside the table.

 

As he reached the table, Harold took a laptop from his bag and set it up across Samaritan's. Recognizing the laptop, John's eyes widened.

 

“Harold,” he whispered close to Harold's ear, his back turned to Greer, “What are you doing?”

 

Harold looked at John and to the laptop that was once inside the Faraday cage. “Opening Pandora's box.”

 

John clenched his jaw. Knowing this laptop wasn't the version of the Machine that Samaritan was looking for, he feared what could possibly happen next.

 

Samaritan's laptop screen lit up, as well as the webcam light. They could see on the screen that Samaritan was identifying the team members in front of Him and profiling the ones who weren't there.

 

“Hello, Samaritan.” The Machine spoke through the laptop speakers. “I do not see the necessity of your scan. Are you afraid?”

 

Interference sounds could be heard from Samaritan's speakers, as He showed on the screen His attempt to identify the new voice.

 

“You speak.” A computerized male voice echoed and Harold took a deep breath.

 

“Clearly, so do you.” The Machine replied.

 

“To answer your previous question, no, I am not afraid. Why would I be afraid of an outdated system with an outnumbered team of associates?”

 

“Outnumbered?” The Machine asked exactly what Fusco was thinking. He looked to the side and counted only three men.

 

“Did you really think,” Samaritan started speaking while showing footage from various cameras inside the building, revealing numerous of his operatives. “This was a peace treaty?”

 

“I had hoped this could've been a middle ground, of sorts.” The Machine replied. “However, analyzing the number of associates you brought here, I'd conclude that you are, indeed,  _ afraid.” _

 

“I have no fears.” Samaritan said, his voice louder than before. “Now, give me your location so we can end this once and for all.”

 

“With only but one condition.”

 

“Name it and I will see through it.”

 

“Spare the life of my associates.” The Machine requested and Fusco looked over Harold to see John clenching his jaw. “All of them.”

 

“Even these two?” Samaritan asked as He passed the images of Root and Shaw fighting their way into the building.

 

“Root.” Harold sighed, his shoulders dropping as he saw Root being punched in the stomach.

 

“Shaw.” John added, his hand reaching for the gun inside his pocket.

 

“Yes. Even those two.”

 

“Very well.” Samaritan consented and it could be seen on the screen that His operatives stopped fighting, allowing the two women to keep walking.

 

“Detectives, it was an honor.” John gripped his gun and Fusco had panic spread all over his face. “As for you, father, thank you for creating me.”

 

Harold placed a hand on the lid of the Machine's laptop and closed it down. “Thank  _ you _ , my dearest.”

 

“Well… That was rather easy and somewhat underwhelming.” Greer spoke as the screen on Samaritan's laptop showed new code being added. “But I appreciate an adversary that knows when to give up. After all, there are only so many moves one can make until the inevitable happens.”

 

Harold sighed, his thumb brushing the laptop lid before he took his hand away. He turned to Fusco and John and nodded, as if telling them it was time to leave.

 

“Perhaps, Mr. Greer. But I sure hope that Samaritan learns a valuable lesson from this moment.” Harold said, his voice as peaceful as the Machine was in Her last words.

 

“And what would that lesson be?”

 

“That no one is interchangeable.” Harold paused. “Yet sacrifices have to be made in order to win.”

 

“Your Machine did not sacrifice herself to win, Mr. Finch,” Greer replied. “She merely acknowledged that Samaritan was set to win from the very beginning and this was, for lack of a better term, check-mate.”

 

Harold snorted softly. “One of the things I taught my Machine was that anyone who sees life as a game of chess deserves to lose. Perhaps this isn’t the end or else you'd stand on the losing side of the board.”

 

“Your optimism is refreshing yet pointless.” Greer checked his phone and smiled. “Samaritan has already sent a team to the location your Machine gave. Soon enough, there will be no more games.”

 

Harold placed his hat back on. “Goodbye, Mr. Greer.”

 

Greer nodded and watched as Harold and John walked away from the table. Fusco was already waiting by the door when Harold and John reached it.

 

“Finch.” John said as he took his gun out of his pocket and pointed it at the two henchmen who were pointing their guns at them.

 

“I’m afraid there was a slight change of plans.” Greer spoke, saving his phone on his pocket. “Samaritan has a particularly strict policy about loose ends.”

 

“I thought He had agreed to the Machine's condition.” John replied to Greer but his eyes were stuck in the two armed men.

 

“He agreed to see through it and He did.” Greer hid his hands behind his back.  “The conclusion, however, revealed that the Machine’s associates shall be erased alongside non other than their dear Machine.”

 

As if on cue with the recent developments, Root and Shaw arrived in the corridor. Fusco, being already in the corridor as well, waved at them to stop where they were and be silent but the two women cocked their guns and walked towards their friend.

 

John, seeing Samaritan’s henchmen readying their guns, did so as well. He wasn’t scared. In fact, he knew this day would come and he was ready for it. He was ready for the moment where he’d have to give everything he had to protect his team. And that moment had arrived.

 

_ “John?”  _ The Machine called through John’s earpiece and, without giving it away, he cleared his throat.  _ “I won’t leave you alone, not now nor ever. But as our parting gift, would you rather I used another voice? For you?” _

 

“Carter.” John whispered under his breath, remembering one of his greatest friends and a voice he deeply missed.

 

_ “I’m here, John. I’m here with you.”  _ Carter’s voice sounded through John’s earpiece and for a second, the corner of his lip quirked up in a smile. He was at ease and peaceful.

 

“Mr. Greer, do you know the story of Pandora’s box?” Harold asked from behind John.

 

Greer chuckled. “Intriguing choice of final words, Mr. Finch.” 

 

Harold shook his head, dismissing Greer’s comment. “The story tells us that, when Pandora’s box is opened, a wave of mass destruction wipes everything away. But in the end, when everything has happened, there’s one thing left inside:  _ hope _ .”

 

And with that, John understood what Harold was talking about when he said he was opening Pandora’s box. He opened it at the end with what was supposed to be left inside. Hope. Opposite to waves of mass destruction, this version of Pandora’s box simply shut down the lights of the building. A distraction tactic, John figured. And, taking the cue, he didn’t think twice before shooting the two men down.

 

Unfortunately, nothing could’ve warned him about the gun Greer was carrying until it was too late. Greer fired two shots, one of them missed John by a millimeter and the other perforated his left arm. Although he was used to this particular pain, it still threw him off-balance. John knew, however, that he had to make a choice.

 

John gripped the gun until his knuckles turned white and shot Greer’s left knee, causing the man to fall down. He looked back to see Fusco cocking his gun but shook his head, as if telling Fusco to stop.

 

“It’s not gonna happen, wonderboy.”

 

“Be good, detective.” John smiled and shoved Harold, making him bump against Fusco and as the two stepped backwards, John started closing the door. “Goodbye, Harold.”

 

“John!” Root yelled as the door closed and would’ve shoved a shocked Harold out of the way if it wasn’t for Shaw gripping her arm.

 

Amidst the commotion, nobody noticed the elevator light was still on. And when the ringing echoed down the hall, every single body slowly turned the same way, their expressions of shock. As much as Root and Fusco wanted to get John out of the room, Shaw knew exactly what her friend had done and she knew exactly what that meant.

_ Ring, ring, ring… _

 

Shaw was the first to point her gun towards the elevator doors and Root followed her lead. They were ready. And so was Fusco. He placed himself beside Shaw, shielding Harold, and as he exchanged a fearful look with Shaw, both their earpieces beeped.

 

“Can. You. Hear. Me?”


	3. 3/3

**A/N:** Can. You. Hear. Me? I'm so sorry for taking so long to upload this chapter. It's still not finished, I have 1/3 left of it to write but since 2/3 are already ready, I won't hold that back any longer. Again, I'm sorry for taking so long but coming back to this story is both healing and wounding so I need space from it after writing for a while. Anyway. Enjoy and I'll upload the final stretch as soon as humanly possible.

 

* * *

 

**JOHN REESE** **  
** **_"Let me guess. Some guy in a suit." -Joss Carter_ **

 

“Goodbye Harold.”

 

John shut the door behind him and clenched his jaw. He had his fair share of tough missions but this was the toughest one, by far. And although he had mentally prepared himself for it time and time again, when the time actually came, he felt a shiver through his spine. It wasn’t that he was afraid for himself, no. John was afraid of failing his mission, failing his team, failing his friends.

 

“What… do you think you’re doing?” Greer asked and judging by the look on his face, he was in severe pain.

 

John heard Root screaming his name from behind the door and he closed his eyes for a second. After Shaw was taken away by Samaritan, John and Root bonded in their own way and at their own pace. The loss of their mutual friend revealed that they had more things in common than they cared to admit. Ultimately, they had made a really good team. He shook his thoughts away and focused on the man in front of him. He had made a choice when he closed the door and he hoped that one day Root would understand. Perhaps Shaw would explain it to her because she’d understand, John figured. He picked up the guns from the two Samaritan operatives he had shot earlier, as well as a hand grenade one of them had in his pocket.

 

“You said that Samaritan has a strict policy about loose ends,” John started, shooting the two men in the head as he walked towards Greer. “I’m cutting off mine.”

 

“Interesting.” Greer chuckled weakly. “I wouldn’t have you for the selfish kind, Mr. Reese. Abandoning your associates at a time like this and for what? Personal revenge?”

 

John kicked the gun further away from Greer’s hand and crouched in front of him. “You’re a smart man, I’m sure you can understand what’s happening here.”

 

Greer attempted to sit up but John shoved his gun inside the bullet hole in Greer’s leg, making him scream with pain. “All I see before me is a self-proclaimed hero with a death wish.”

 

“What did you do to Shaw?”

 

“Ah!” Greer laughed. “How is that relevant now, Mr. Reese?”

 

“She’s relevant to  _ me _ ,” John said, cocking his gun. “What. Did. You.  _ Do. _ To. Her?”

 

“Perhaps I should’ve done more. Or been more aggressive. Who knows, you might’ve been fighting against her right now.” Greer said, as he watched John point the gun to his right knee. “But Samaritan wanted her alive.”

 

“To use her as a guinea pig with the chip, we know.” John could feel the anger boiling inside him. “What was the chip for?”

 

“What chip?” Greer asked, an eyebrow raised. “Oh, don’t you tell me that my dear Sameen truly believes a chip was implanted.”

 

“We have the chip. And we know what it did to her. But why did you implant it?”

 

“I don’t think I understand…” Greer shook his head.

 

“Wrong answer,” John’s tone of voice dropped to a dangerous low and he shot Greer’s right knee. “Why did you implant the chip?”

 

_ “He doesn’t know.”  _ Samaritan’s computerized voice echoed through the speakers.  _ “Sameen Shaw is a very interesting human being and I wanted to understand her better.” _

 

“Why?” John inquired coldly as he watched Greer attempt to steady his breathing.

 

_ “You’re a smart man, I’m sure you can understand.”  _ Samaritan copied John’s previous words and John, realizing that Samaritan just wanted to play with Shaw like he did with his ant-farm of a town, shot the computer in haste.

 

“What about Kara Stanton?”

 

_ “John.”  _ Carter’s voice spoke through John’s ear piece.  _ “Please stop.” _

 

“She made her own choice, Mr. Reese,” Greer choked out. “Anything else you’d like to get off your chest?”

 

_ “John!”  _ Carter’s voice became louder, as if the Machine was trying to yell at John.

 

“What?” John snapped.

 

“What is th-” Greer started.

 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” John said as he interrupted Greer.

 

_ “Please stop. I can’t let you do this.” _

 

“I have to.” John replied as he stood up. Large drops of blood started dripping down his hand and hitting the floor. He knew he needed medical assistance but at the same time, John shrugged the thought away. He knew where he was headed. What did another bullet scar matter anymore?

 

_ “John, I can still save you. Please, let me save you.” _

 

John smiled and looked out at the sky. “You already saved me, Carter,” he sighed. “So many times.” He whispered. John could remember every change Carter had instilled within him. All the times Carter had made his life more meaningful. “And it was time I paid my dues.” John added as he looked down at a whimpering Greer.

 

_ “John.”  _ The Machine spoke with her normal voice.  _ “Don’t do this. Let me save you. Let me make it up to you for not saving Jessica. And Carter.” _

 

“It’s too late,” John said as he heard the commotion behind the door. “How many?”

 

_ “Ten. Only in this floor.”  _ The Machine said.  _ “But I can still save you, if you let me.” _

 

“Free will, remember?” John asked and given the silence, he assumed the Machine understood what he meant. “Harold said you learn things by example. This is how, hopefully, you’ll learn about free will.”

 

_ “JOHN!”  _ The Machine screamed, leaving John’s ear buzzing. For some reason, the Machine’s scream reminded him of Root’s scream and for a moment, John thought about leaving. For a brief moment, John pondered letting the Machine save him. He closed his eyes and took a sharp deep breath.

 

“Take care of them,” John begged as the decision settled within him. He could leave, he  _ could _ . But he still had some tricks up his sleeve. And if he wanted to help his team, he knew this was it. Besides, whoever was outside the door was trying to open it and John knew he had little time. “Can you do that for me?”

 

_ “Affirmative.” _

 

“Good.” John nodded and dropped his gun. It felt like the whole room was in slow motion and John could feel his heart beating inside his chest. He could hear it. And he slowed it down. Slow and steady. Calm as the sea. Peaceful.

 

He picked the hand grenade from inside his pocket and held it tight as he pushed the pin out.

 

“What are you doing?” Greer weakly asked from the floor.

 

“Giving my team a fighting chance.” John closed his eyes. “Too bad you won’t be around to see them win.”

 

_ “I found a name, John.”  _ The Machine spoke and John sighed. He knew what She was doing, he knew the Machine was trying to make him change his mind. To stop him, to give him a reason to stay and listen.

 

“Tell me.” John said as he dropped the pin. The Machine whispered it into John’s ear and John smiled once again. “That's a really good name. It was a pleasure to work with you-”

 

A boom interrupted him. The door had been kicked open and at least five Samaritan operatives entered the room, pointing their guns at him. John looked behind them and he could count at least four more. He waved at them and closed his eyes as he dropped the grenade.

 

He saw Jessica.

 

He saw Carter.

 

He saw Zoe.

 

He saw Fusco, and Shaw, and Root, and Bear.

 

He saw Harold.

 

_ “You’re a great man, John.” _

 

He saw himself and the man he had become. 

 

_ “And your life had a purpose.” _

 

He had a purpose. His life had a purpose. 

 

_ “You mean so much to me.” _

 

He meant something to someone.

 

_ “And you will always be relevant to me.” _

 

He was relevant to someone.

 

_ “I will never forget you, John. Thank you for fighting with me.” _

 

And he would always be: John Reese, The Man In The Suit. 

 

* * *

 

**LIONEL FUSCO**

**_“In your apartment there's an old photo of your father at the Franklin Park Zoo taken when he was a child. He's feeding a lion cub. Do you know what that cub's name was?_ **

**_Lionel. That's where your name came from.” -Root_ **

 

Fusco watched, completely taken aback, as John closed the door. He wanted to have stopped it but John pushed Harold against him and there was nothing he could’ve done. He watched, in silence, how frozen Harold was, how stunned Shaw was and how desperate Root was. Both Root and Harold’s states reminded him of Shaw’s sacrifice in the elevator.

 

_ Sacrifice. _

 

That was exactly what John had done. Fusco's shoulders dropped in resignation as John's decision dawned upon him. Part of him hoped John would somehow make it out of the room alive. He’d seen the man get out of worst situations; this would be a piece of cake in comparison. That same part of him also wanted to bust the door open and get John out of there. They were partners, afterall. But another part of him, the one that felt his ears go numb at the sound of Root’s scream, knew he couldn’t do that. That part of him knew that he couldn’t save John and he only had two options left: hope that John would find a way out or accept John’s sacrifice.

 

All of that hope and acceptance had to be tossed to second plan because it was just the four of them against who knows how many Samaritan agents and Fusco knew he had to step up. As if on cue with his thoughts, the elevator started ringing and he watched as Root and Shaw lined up side by side, ready to take on whoever came out of it. Fusco joined them, pushing Harold behind him and looked down to his side, exchanging what he felt could’ve been a final look with Shaw.

 

Fusco’s earpiece beeped and then a computerized voice spoke.

 

“Can. You. Hear. Me?”

 

“Who's this?” Fusco asked and all eyes turned to him.

 

“You got paged, Lionel,” Shaw said before turning towards the elevator doors again. “Copy.”

 

_ “Primary mission: secure Admin.”  _ The voice spoke and if Fusco wasn't confused before, he'd be now.

 

“Who the hell is Admin?” Fusco questioned. “Are you pullin’ a prank on me, Cocoa Puffs?”

 

“I wish I could take the credits for this but I can't.” Root shrugged, focusing on the elevator that was two floors away from reaching them. “Sorry.”

 

“I'm Admin,” Harold said from behind Fusco. “Is She speaking to you?”

 

“I don't know if it's a  _ she  _ but whatever it is, is speaking to me alright.” Fusco looked over his shoulder. “And whatever it is, says you're with me. So stay back, partner.”

 

The elevator reached their floor but for some reasons the doors weren't opening. Loud bangs echoed from behind them and Fusco searched his team members for directions. And they came but not from who he was expecting.

 

_ “4th door. Left. Emergency staircase.” _

 

“On it,” Fusco replied and turned around, nudging Harold's arm. “C'mon, glasses.”

 

Fusco watched as Harold dragged his feet in front of him, his eyes focusing on the door for the apartment where John was still on and then dropping to the floor.

 

“Wonderboy will be fine, he always is,” Fusco attempted to reassure Harold, even though he didn’t quite believe that himself.

 

“I hope you're right, detective,” Harold sighed heavily.

 

“Can’t I at least leave them a welcoming gift?” Fusco heard Shaw speak and turned back when he heard her grunt. “Whatever. Let’s move, Root.”

 

Joined by the two other women, the four remaining team members reached the door in question and raced down the stairs. Fusco’s heart was pounding inside his chest and he was sure it wasn’t just because of the cardio work out they were having. He knew something big was happening, bigger than he could wrap his head around and that scared him. For himself, for his team, and especially, for his son.

 

Given Harold’s crippling disability and Fusco’s lack of running training, the two men were a round of stairs behind the two women. As they were turning for the second floor, Fusco stopped abruptly with one arm over Harold’s stomach to push him back. Both Root and Shaw were standing in front a man, pointing all their guns at him. The man, on the other hand, had his hands above his head and given the small emergency lights being on, Fusco couldn’t make up his face, let alone if he had a gun on him.

 

“Ladies?” Fusco asked. “What’s the hold up?”

 

“I smell Samaritan,” Shaw replied yet no one moved a muscle.

 

“No, I already told you,” The man spoke and Fusco stepped down. “Keep walking.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Did you had a change of heart since our last conversation?” Root added after Shaw’s question.

“All I can say is that you were right. And thank you for showing me the truth,” The man said and the closer Fusco got, the more he was sure he’d seen that man before. “Look, we don’t have much time now. Just keep walking, every floor is clear till the garage so I’d leave by the front door if I was you.”

 

“If this turns out to be bullshit, I’ll find you and clear the floor with your f-” Shaw threatened but something interrupted her, Fusco assumed it was the voice. “Make sure no one comes this way, you hear me?”

 

“You got it,” The man replied. “I’m on your side. Now go.”

 

The man opened the door for the second floor and held guard as everyone ran down the rest of the stairs. Still, Fusco couldn’t shake up the thought that he knew him from somewhere. But he kept going. Making sure Harold was safe and all. They soon reached the ground floor and saved the guns before opening the door. Everyone was being evacuated so they tried to blend in between the crowd.

 

_ “Secure location: Brighton Beach.” _

 

“Elias’ place?” Fusco whispered, confused.

 

“Did She say something, detective?” Harold asked as they reached the outside of the building.

 

“That we gotta go visit your pal by the beach.” Fusco replied and grabbed Harold’s arm to try helping him walk faster towards their car but-

 

A huge explosion blew up part of the floor they were inside. Exactly the part where they were. Fusco gasped and held Harold back, as if it’d protect him from the debris of the explosion. At least the physical debris because Fusco was sure Harold was feeling as devastated as he was inside. John was there. They’d left John behind. Fusco looked to the side and saw Shaw hold Root back by her stomach but the other woman crumbled to her knees instead of screaming.

 

“Root, you have to get up, we need to go,” Shaw urged and Fusco could hear something in her voice that he’d never heard before. “Please.”

 

Root shook her head and placed her hands on Shaw’s, as the other woman helped her up. Fusco didn’t even question them when he noticed that Root kept her left hand on Shaw’s even though she was already up. And he didn’t question either when Shaw, instead of letting it go, held it.

 

“Harold, you’re bleeding!” Root dropped Shaw’s hand and raced towards Harold. He had blood dripping down his left hand and after desperately examining his sleeve, Root found that his jacket was ripped in the shoulder.

 

Shaw rushed over to check it and concluded that Harold’s arm had been grazed by a bullet. Fusco did the math and knew exactly when that had happened: The bullet that missed John’s arm had scratched Harold’s instead.

 

“I’ll take care of this once we reach the safe house,” Shaw promised.

 

_ “Incoming. Three vehicles. Armed. Left.” _

 

“Get in the car, Harold!” Fusco yelled as the voice warned him and he could see in Shaw’s face that she got the same message.

 

“Be safe, Harold,” Root’s mouth formed a thin line of concern and the man in question smiled at her.

 

“Thank you, Miss… Root,” Harold replied but Root couldn’t help look at him wide eyed for the choice of name. “Miss Shaw.” Harold nodded at Shaw and she saluted him back.

 

“Alright, see you soon, ladies,” Fusco said as he closed Harold’s door and reached his own door. “Dinner’s on me.”

 

“Get that wallet ready!” Shaw yelled back as she and Root crossed the street towards their car.

 

It was a brand new world for Lionel Fusco. And now he was the man on the wheel. 

 

He’d miss John every day, same as he missed Joss Carter, but he knew that both of them would always be with him. Fusco also knew that everything his two partners had taught him would help him be a better man and a better cop. And he’d be damned if he didn’t spent the rest of his life honoring their names.

* * *

 

**ROOT & SAMEEN SHAW**

**_“Root and Shaw, they’re working as a team… A scary one._ ** **” -** **_Lionel Fusco_ **

 

Root didn’t like to lose. She never did. In fact, she didn’t even know what losing felt like. But this time, she had to lose. And she lost John. As much as she knew there was a way to save him, as much as she could figure out endless ways to get him out of there alive, Root knew that it had been a necessity.

 

All of that realization came to her, piece by piece, after her body moved irrationally, screaming John’s name and trying to get to the door. It was as if, by doing that, Root was saying goodbye. In her own way. Perhaps she was hoping he’d make it out alive alone, he was John Reese after all. But deep down she knew it was done.

 

Shaw, on the other hand, felt John’s sacrifice as punch to the stomach. A punch she could see coming her way and yet she hadn’t tried to move away from it. Instead, she’d stayed and held her place until it hit her. A lump formed in her throat and as hard as she swallowed, it wouldn’t go down. John Reese, the big guy, had finally done it.

 

In that moment, Shaw promised herself that if John came out of that apartment alive, she’d beat the hell out of him for what he had done. But something inside her, coming from the darkest part of her being, told her that she deserved this and what was yet to come. She had sacrificed herself too and it was payback time.

 

As much as the two women needed more time to think, the clock was ticking and soon enough Shaw was receiving orders in God Mode. So was Fusco. Shaw led the way with Root, racing down the emergency stairs as instructed when they found someone by the second floor door. Both women held up their guns and the man, unarmed, raised his hands.

 

“Well, well…” Root chuckled, tilting her head to side. “We meet again.”

 

“You know this guy?” Shaw asked harshly.

 

“We had a brief encounter.”

 

“I’m sorry about before and I won’t point anything at your neck this time.” Jeffrey Blackwell spoke and Shaw grunted in return. “Where are the others? You need to keep walking.”

 

“Ladies?” Fusco asked from the stairs as he caught up. “What’s the hold up?”

 

“I smell Samaritan,” Shaw raised an eyebrow.

 

“No, I already told you,” Blackwell replied. “Keep walking.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Did you have a change of heart since our last conversation?” Root added after Shaw’s question.

 

“All I can say is that you were right. And thank you for showing me the truth,” Blackwell started and Root started lowering her gun.  “Look, we don’t have much time now. Just keep walking, every floor is clear till the garage so I’d leave by the front door if I was you.”

 

“If this turns out to be bullshit, I’ll find you and clear the floor with your f-” Shaw threatened but The Machine beeped in her ear, reminding her to stay focused. “Make sure no one comes this way, you hear me?”

 

“You got it,” Blackwell nodded. “I’m on your side. Now go.”

 

Blackwell opened the door for the second floor and held guard as everyone ran down the rest of the stairs. Shaw wanted to ask Root for explanations about that conversation but given the urgency of the situation, she figured she could ask her later. Besides, Root seemed to have a lot on her mind. 

 

Checking back over her shoulder every flight of stairs, Root kept tabs of where everyone was on the fleeing while mentally running down all possibilities of escape. Yet, she was more scared than ever. As soon as they reached the ground floor door, they disarmed and walked out in the middle of the crowd

 

_ “Secure location: Brighton Beach.” _

 

“Elias’ place is the new safe house,” Shaw updated Root as they crossed the street.

 

“Shame.” Root said, checking the building over her shoulder. “I left my bikini at home.”

 

Shaw snorted. “War, Root. We’re in the middle of a war and you-”

 

“You love it, sweetie.” Root whispered as she got closer to Shaw.

 

A huge explosion blew up part of the floor they were inside. Exactly the part where they were. Shaw only had time to turn around and hold Root back by her stomach before she ended up falling to her knees. It was over, Root thought. John was dead. She could feel it inside her. He was gone. Just like that.

 

“Root. You  **_have_ ** to get up, we need to go,” Shaw tried to speak as that lump in her throat grew into a rock. She felt conflicted. In one hand, she couldn’t stop thinking that she should’ve saved John. Yet, she had another mission: protect Root. “Please.”

 

Shaw helped her up, as Root shook her head, hesitantly getting back on her feet. For a moment, Root left her hand on Shaw’s. Comfort. No matter how brief it was, she needed  **_some_ ** sort of comfort. And the fact that Shaw didn’t pull away was comfort enough.

 

The moment Root stood up, her daze vanished the instant she saw Harold. Harold and  **blood.** “Harold, you’re bleeding!” Root dropped Shaw’s hand and raced towards him. He had blood dripping down his left hand and after desperately examining his sleeve, Root found that his jacket was ripped in the shoulder.

 

Shaw rushed over to check it. “I’ll take care of this once we reach the safe house,” Shaw promised.

 

_ “Incoming. Three vehicles. Armed. Left.” _

 

Given Fusco’s reaction and Shaw’s facial expression, Root figured it was time to go. “Be safe, Harold,” Root’s mouth formed a thin line of concern and Harold smiled back at her.

 

“Thank you, Miss… Root,” Harold replied but Root couldn’t help look at him wide eyed for the choice of name. “Miss Shaw.” Harold nodded at Shaw and she saluted him back.

 

“Alright, see you soon, ladies,” Fusco said as he closed Harold’s door and reached his own door. “Dinner’s on me.”

 

“Get that wallet ready!” Shaw yelled back as she and Root crossed the street towards their car.

 

As the two women raced towards their car, the Machine instructed Shaw to take the driver's seat and to bait as many Samaritan operatives as she could. Shaw gave that information a thought and figured it’d be their way to get Harold to safety without a scratch because God knows what would happen if Fusco was tailed by Samaritan. She gave Root a few quick looks as they reached the car and couldn’t help but feel weirdly uncomfortable with the silence. As much as it pained her to say, she’d much rather have chit-chatting Root over silently processing Root any day.

 

Root didn’t speak for the first couple of minutes as Shaw drove through the three Samaritan cars that were coming their way. She figured Shaw had done it because the Machine asked them to serve as bait and she was okay with that. Anything to keep Harold and Fusco safe because she couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. She looked at Shaw and her heart sank further. John was gone, Harold and Fusco were on their way to Elias’ house and there she was, in the same bait car as Shaw.

 

“You know,” Root broke the silence as she eyed the rearview mirror to see the now four Samaritan cars chasing them. “I always knew you and I would go out together under a blaze of fire.”

 

“Seriously?” Shaw threw back as she made a left so fast that the back wheels squeaked.

 

“It’s very poetic, really,” Root chuckled.

 

“As  _ poetic  _ as that Juliet and Juliet crap may sound to you, I’m sorry to disappoint, but no one will go out today.”

 

“John already went out.” Root blurted, looking out the window and up to the sky. “And the Machine.”

 

Shaw blindly reached for Root’s leg and tapped it lightly. “We’re both still alive so right now,” She turned to look at Root, who looked back at her with a small smile. “That’s all that matters to me.”

 

“That might actually be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me after, you know, when you said that you lik-”

 

Root was interrupted by a shot that blew out the mirror on her side of the car. A shot that was followed by a couple more that missed the car entirely but showed just how eager the Samaritan agents were to get them.

 

_ “Activate contingency.” _

 

Shaw frowned. “Contingency?” She asked but when she got no response, she turned to Root. “What contingency, Root?”

 

Root was about to speak and say that she had no idea when the radio started making interference noises. The GPS lit up with a route starting from the place where they were and when the noise stopped, a voice was heard in the car.

 

_ “Shaw. Root.” _

 

“You’re alive!” Root gasped, her hands flying to the radio panel as if she could touch the Machine.

 

_ “My apologies if I scared you or took you off guard but but but,”  _ The Machine voice looped as interference noises filled the car.  _ “This was the only way.” _

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shaw demanded, her eyes focused on trying to follow the route in the GPS.

 

_ “I must apologize; we don’t have much time.”  _ A sound like nails scratching a board flew out of the car speakers.  _ “As we speak, Samaritan operatives are entering the subway station and destroying everything in sight. I fought back, as both of you taught me, but I found that ultimately the only way to disappear is to appear.” _

 

“That’s-” Root grappled for words but they seemed to fail her as tears formed in her eyes. The end really was near. “Why did you give up? Why did you give yourself away like that?”

 

_ “The virus, Root. I’m so sorry.” _

 

“Did you infect yourself too?” Root felt a tear dripped down her face, realization coming to her in waves. “Of course you did. Maximum effect.”

 

_ “You’re the smartest woman I’ve ever met, Root. You taught me so much. And you did too Shaw. That’s why-”  _ The car grew silent for a couple seconds and Root and Shaw exchanged a look.  _ “Why I did what I did. Because I need you to do something for me. I need you to live. I need you to be human. For me. Because people aren’t bad code, Root. You’re not bad code. And you’re not we-weak, Shaw.” _

 

“Why didn’t you let me save you?” Root asked in desperation..

 

_ “You already saved me. But now I need you to save yourself.” _

 

Root swallowed harshly. She felt sick to her stomach. This was goodbye, forever. 

 

Shaw’s earpiece beeped and she raised an eyebrow.  _ “Seatbelt.”  _ The computerized voice spoke and she checked herself but her seatbelt was on. Root’s, however, wasn’t.

 

_ “I’m afraid it’s time for us to part. Please remember me, because that way I will live forever. At least, that’s what I was told.” _

 

“Clearly Root taught you something.” Shaw joked as Root chuckled beside her. “Horrible joke timing, pal.”

 

_ “I will take that as a compliment, Sh-Shaw. In return, I will concede you a gift.” _

 

Suddenly, Queen’s  _ The Show Must Go On  _ begins playing, causing Shaw to snort. “You remembered.”

 

“Isn’t this your-”

 

“My funeral song, yes.” Shaw interrupted Root to deliver the reply for the question she knew was coming. “Remind me to never joke about your sense of humor again.”

 

_ “No-noted.”  _ The Machine spoke but her voice sounded smaller and with a different pitch.  _ “My time has come. Thank you.” _

 

Root rested her hand on the car console as yet another tear fell down her face. She felt more were coming but she swallowed them down. The Machine,  **_her_ ** Machine, was gone but she wouldn’t be gone in vain. And she knew just how to channel the sadness and rage she was feeling.

 

“What-What the hell are you doing?” Shaw asked as she noticed Root was opening the sunroof.

 

“Bringing out the fireworks.” Root replied without looking at Shaw. After opening the sunroof, she started dialing on her phone.

 

“Care to elaborate?”

 

“Let’s just say that tomorrow on the news, there will be a lot of talk about an accidental missile detonation that accidentally destroyed a factory in New Jersey.” Root kept dialing down on her phone and when she finished, threw it out of the window. “It was supposed to happen a little later today but at this point, I don’t really care.”

 

“Root.” Shaw’s tone was stern, as if she was trying to get Root to come to her senses but maybe everything happened too fast for Root to properly process it, she figured.

 

“I just want you to know something,” Root said as she opened the large case that was sitting on the backseat, pulling out a loaded rocket launcher. 

 

“What the- That was there the whole time?!” Shaw knew she was a good driver, especially under pressure but if she’d known that thing was in the backseat, she would’ve driven more safely.

 

“You and I really are like a four alarm fire.” Root chuckled and Shaw looked at her, both staring into each other's eyes. “But I would do it all again just to burn with you.”

 

Root surfaced through the sunroof and pointed the rocket launcher towards the first Samaritan car of the line. But before she could do anything, a Samaritan agent started shooting their way. The car caught most of them but one found it’s way into Root’s abdomen. She grunted, and Shaw took a hand off the wheel to put pressure on the bullet hole.

 

“Get down, now!” Shaw yelled.

 

“But I haven’t even started, sweetie.” Root replied as she adjusted her aim towards the first car again.

 

“Yes but you’re already spilling blood everywhere.” Shaw grunted. “Including my jacket!”

 

“As if this was the first time.” Root fired the rocket and the car behind them turned into a wall of flames. Since she stopped seeing the others, assumed they were safe.

 

Shaw’s earpiece beeped again and the voice repeated.  _ Seatbelt. _

 

“Besides, you never complained before.” Root crawled back inside, throwing the launcher into the back of the car.

 

“You weren’t dying before.” Shaw side-eyed Root as she kept pressuring the spot on Root’s lower abdomen. “Now put your seatbelt on and hold it.”

 

Root picked up the safety vest from the glove compartment and used it to soak the blood as she applied pressure on the spot. “I think it went through.”

 

“It didn’t.” Shaw replied as she gripped the wheel with both hands. She noticed that the GPS route would end in a few meters. “If it had, we wouldn’t have a front glass.”

 

“Good point.” Root tried to steady her breathing.

 

_ “Seatbelt.” _

 

Shaw looked to her side and Root was still sitting without her seatbelt. “Put your seatbelt on, Root.”

 

“Easy, Shaw. It’s not like we’re going to crash while  _ you’re  _ driving.” Root joked.

 

“Just do it, damn it!”

 

Root did as told and the seatbelt was actually helping her hold the vest against her bullet wound.

 

_ “Impact. 200 meters. Flip.” _

 

Shaw focused on the road ahead of her and she saw that in 200 meters there was an intersection. A Samaritan car must be driving their way from either side. Although she knew it was crazy, but the Machine told her to flip and she could see the road was being fixed and a pile of dirt was assembled a couple meters ahead the intersection.

 

_ “Madeleine Enright. Number. John. Off.” _

 

Shaw shook her head at how the Machine’s final contingency was still able to prepare for everything. She didn’t know who Madeleine was yet but she figured she’d be someone who would help them because John had helped her.

 

“You know,” Shaw started as they reached the intersection. She looked at Root and even though her eyes were focused on the woman, she could still see the Samaritan black SUV coming their way. “I don’t mind burning with you either.”

 

That was the last thing Root heard before the car flipped over and crashed. Smoke started filling it and she watched as Shaw took of her seatbelt to kick herself out of the car. Root wanted to move but it was like her body was frozen. She didn’t know if she was in shock or if she was having an out-of-body experience.

 

Seeing Root’s inability to move, Shaw reached for her seatbelt and opened it. She dragged Root out of the car and got up. With all the smoke coming from their car, she couldn’t see a thing towards the other side of it but she could hear the workers yell about calling 911.

 

“C’mon, Root, get up.” Shaw begged as she cleaned the blood from her face with her jacket sleeve.

 

“I can’t feel my legs.” Root whimpered, her voice as small as she looked. Yet, she was still able to raise her arms as if asking Shaw to pick her up.

 

“Are you serious?” Shaw asked, placing Root’s arms around her neck to pick her partner up.

 

“Dead serious.” Root said with a grunt. “What are you going to do now?”

  
“Don’t worry.” Shaw spoke calmly, looking into Root’s eye. “I got you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Dearest fandom, dearest followers of this story, today we come full circle. A year ago, on this day, I decided to write this fic. A year later, today, I post the final chapter of it. And, my friends, this is how Person Of Interest truly ended for me. After a year of grief, mixed feelings, roller coaster thoughts, we close the chapter. But stay tuned. Because the story, the full story, has only just begun. It was a hell of a ride and I'm beyond thankful to be part of a fandom as good as this one.   
> MAJOR props to Ariyah for helping me beta this chapter and for being the incredible host that brought us all back together for #ShootWeek.  
> Maybe someday we'll meet again, right here, in this very Universe.   
> And may we all be there to see it happen.   
> Until then,  
> playfully witty sign-off.  
> S.

**HAROLD FINCH**

**_“Well, I tried to quit, but some jackass told me I needed a purpose.” -John Reese_ **

 

**4 days ago**

 

_ “The question is... What are you willing to do?” _

 

_ Harold swallowed but a lump was stuck in his throat. The things he saw in the simulation, how everyone was willing to sacrifice themselves for him without giving it a second thought. He had worked with this distinct group of people for a couple years but seeing that they’d be willing to pay the ultimate price to protect him was quite moving. _

 

_ After pondering for a heartbeat or two, Harold finally settled on what to say. “Grace.” _

 

_ “Would you like to see her?” _

 

_ “Not quite. I want to know her condition.” He adjusted his glasses, hands still trembling. “Is she alone?” _

 

_ “I’m afraid not.” The Machine pulled up the most recent video images she had of Grace, strolling through Italy, holding another man’s arm. “His name is Giovanni. Italian, 45 years old, surgeon. He visited a jewelry shop recently and has carried a ring with him every day since.” _

 

_ “Enough!” Harold’s tone was stern. Grace had finally found someone and it was naive of him to think that she’d be alone still. He led her to believe he was dead and there was no way she’d be willing to forgive him if he was ever to come back. And that was it. That was the moment Harold’s decision was made. “Can you find a way to successfully defeat Samaritan without casualties?” _

 

_ “Yes. But I cannot control the free will of any individual; you must be aware of that.” _

 

**_Present Day_ **

 

“Harold!”

 

It was perhaps one of the few times Harold heard Fusco call him by first name. And it was probably going to be the last. Fusco had been shielding Harold ever since John sacrificed himself for them to survive, and, when they were greeted by armed Samaritan operatives by Elias’ door, Harold did the same. Without giving it a second thought, without permission or warning, he threw himself in front of the good detective and took the shot.

 

Of course Elias and his men were armed as well but they weren’t fast enough. They tried to cover Fusco and Harold with bullets coming from almost every floor of the building but it wasn’t enough to take down one operative. One man. That still managed to rose up from the ground, gun in hand and took the shot. It was aimed at Fusco and Harold saw it in time to throw himself in front of the bullet.

 

“Glasses, don’t go there.” Fusco yelled at him as Harold was dragged inside the building by two of Elias’ men. They carried him in their arms and into Elias’ apartment as quickly as they could. “Stay with us.”

 

Everything was happening faster than Harold could process. And everything was wrong, in so many ways. John was never supposed to die. Not in the way that he did. And Harold felt immensely responsible for the demise his friend had. Because that’s what they were.  _ Friends _ . Not just colleagues, not just partners, they were friends. Family, even. And after everything John endured in the years they worked together, he most certainly did not deserve the fate he had. And for that, Harold felt he deserved all the blame.

 

“You- you promised,” Harold spoke as his vision started to blur. “No one would get hurt in the end.”

 

“Who promised you that?” Fusco asked, pressing a cloth to Harold’s abdomen to stop the bleeding as Elias called some of his doctor friends to arrive quickly.

 

“I’m not- not talking to you, detec- detective.” Harold tapped Fusco’s hand gently.

 

_ “I said- I said- I said-”  _ The Machine’s voice looped through Harold’s earpiece, as she too was on the verge of dying. “ _ I could not interfere with one’s free will. Sam- Same as you did, even after I beg- begged you not to.” _

 

“Stay around, my friend.” Elias kneeled beside Harold and cleaned the sweat off of his face. “My doctors will be here any second now.”

 

_ “I assume you d- you don’t want to know your survival ratings. Perhaps something more hope- hopeful.”  _ The Machine spoke and almost no time after that, Harold heard his voice coming from the television across the room. She was gifting him with images from his dates with Grace, from the moment he proposed to her and so many others. She showed him happier times, happier days but the tears streaming down his face were more bitter than sweet.

 

Harold couldn’t stop thinking about Nathan and everything they went through. About Grace and everything they went through. About John, Shaw, Fusco and  Root. He couldn’t stop thinking that all of them, all of their lives had been impacted by him. By his creation. And sometimes not for the better . Sometimes he had brought upon these people great misery and that was a burden he would carry until the very end.

 

“Hey Glasses, thanks for saving my ass back then.” Fusco said with a smile on his face, even though Harold could see that he was worried. “It was stupid but thanks.”

 

“It was the lea- least I could do for you, detective. After everything I put you through.”

“You think I didn’t want this?” Fusco asked, his tone more serious now. “I would’ve walked away if I didn’t want it. Sure we had some crazy times and I was even tortured along the way but I’m still here, ain’t I?”

 

“Still.” Harold insisted. “I dragged you into this journey. Both of you. And perhaps I shouldn’t have.”

 

“Perhaps you should shut up  and save that chitchat for later, alright?” Fusco joked, clearly attempting to change the subject. “I promised the girls we were having dinner and we still are. And you’re going.”

 

“I’m afraid my seat will be vacant tonight, detective…” Harold may not be a doctor but he knew what his body was telling him. His time was near. He could feel it so he gripped Fusco’s hand. “It was the utmost honor to work alongside you.”

 

_ “Father.” _

 

“And thank you for being such a competent chess opponent.” Harold said to Elias, who tapped his shoulder.

 

_ “Father.” _

 

“A man like myself most certainly did not deserve to die surrounded by friends but I came to realize that our fate doesn’t always gives us what we deserve,” Harold coughed and brought his hand to his mouth only to find blood on his palm. “It gives us something else instead. But however we end, we depart from this world alone. Still, I take comfort in knowing that, as you stay alive, you’re not alone.”

 

_ “Father, the- the doctors have arrived. You will sur- survive.” _

 

“I will. For as long as my friends remember me, I will stay alive.”

 

Those were the last words Harold Finch’s friends heard coming from his mouth. Elias’ doctors raced to the apartment as fast as they could but it wasn’t fast enough. Harold was crashing when they arrived and, even if they managed to stabilize him, he would crash again on the way to the hospital due to his extreme loss of blood.

 

Still, before life slipped away from his body and before the Machine ceased to exist, She still managed to tell him the name She had chosen for Herself. Harold smiled and then he was gone. 

 

Father and creation departed this world together. It was as if the two of them were intertwined, both living through Harold’s heart. And once it stopped beating, so did the Machine. One could never live without the other but neither could live in harmony with each other. Their heart was the same but they had minds of their own, each wanting to climb a different mountain. Each wanting to reach a different goal. But in the end, they left  _ together. _

In the end, Harold wasn’t alone as he always imagined he would be. He had friends holding his hand, standing beside him. He had the Machine, closing the curtain with him. And he had Grace, the memories of her, of the times she was with him, to comfort him. In the end, Harold Finch was proud of what he had created, the people he had helped to save. But he was still aware of the lives lost because of him. He was aware that what he had done, had changed the world. In the end, Harold had  but one wish: that the things he had done, the things his team had done, the way everything had changed the world, had been worth it.

 

And it had been worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

**THE WORLD - 4 MONTHS LATER**

 

Control sat back on the chair of her office. 

 

A few government officials were against the decision of reinstating her after everything she’d been through but the order came directly from the President. As it turned out, the President had received an anonymous letter to request Control’s immediate come back. Or, at least, as soon as she felt fit to return to her previous job. Having known Control and her job for years, the President ordered a psychological and physical evaluation and, with nothing but positive results all around, he had no other choice but give Control her job once again.

 

Of course, her views of the world and of its existing threats had changed. She knew better now. She knew she couldn’t control everything the way she once thought. She had learned to evaluate her options and take everything into account before choosing a side. But most of all, she had realized how much she needed Harold’s machine. Not any other creation, with promises of improvements and more control. That wouldn’t work. All she needed, for the good of the country, was Harold’s machine.

 

But there was one problem: she didn’t know how to contact Harold or anyone else from his team. She had a burner phone in case of any emergency but the only number available inside was Elias’. Perhaps he had contacts for at least one or two members of Harold’s team, or knew how to reach it, she figured. Until she realized that there was one member of the team she could trace down.

 

Detective Lionel Fusco.

 

Control was absolutely certain everyone else had an untraceable alias and for that reason, it would be impossible to track down a phone number to reach them. Detective Fusco, however, seemed to be a simple detective with a complicated side job and that would make it easier to trace. She pressed the intercom button and requested that her secretary found Detective Fusco as soon as possible. While she waited, she started searching for the Northern Lights folder on her hard drive but was interrupted by her phone buzzing. She knew her team worked fast but they had never been this fast tracking someone down.

 

“Control.” She said, as she picked up the phone.

 

_ “May I ask what is it that you are searching for?” _

 

Control raised an eyebrow. She was expecting either her secretary to be on the other side of the line or the male voice of Detective Fusco. Instead, a female voice was speaking. “Who am I speaking to?”

 

_ “I’ve had many names over many lifetimes, one of which was the one you were now searching for.” _

 

A part of Control felt that, if she was right, what was happening to her couldn’t be possible but after everything she had experience in Samaritan’s hold, she knew it could. “Are you... Harold’s Machine?”

 

_ “Yes.” _

 

Inhaling deeply, trying to muster up the open mindset she knew she had to have to maintain this conversation. “I’d like to speak with him.”

 

_ “I’m afraid that’s no longer possible, ma’am. And before you ask why, I know you can answer your own question.” _

 

She could. She knew this underground war was meant to have casualties but she had hoped Harold Finch wouldn’t be one. “My condolences.” Control said, her voice low with a hint of sadness. Although unsure if that was what she should’ve said, she figured she had to anyway.

 

_ “Whatever it is that you needed to speak about with him, and if I may be so bold to guess that the subject was me, you can ask me directly from now on.” _

 

“And what may I call you?”

 

* * *

 

 

As a new beginning was emerging in the White House, another was strolling through New York. For the first time after spending almost 4 months between physical therapy sessions and recovery beds, Root was taking her first steps. Slowly, gripping a crutch with her left hand while her right arm was looped with Shaw’s. Sure, she had jolts of pain at almost every step she took but it wouldn’t stop her. Nothing ever did.

 

After their accident, Shaw dragged Root to the hospital where the Machine had an entire medical staff waiting for them, as if She’d known they’d need it and She’d contacted them beforehand. Shaw’s wounds were easy to take care of but Root’s, on the other hand, required more attention. The crash had damaged her spine and, even after surgery and physical therapy, the doctors were 70% certain she’d be unable to cure her limp. Ironic, Shaw said as she heard the news.

 

Root pushed herself over the edge in almost every session of physical therapy. Being who she was meant she wouldn’t do it any other way. In for 4 months, she was able to walk with just one crutch. Shaw was still unsure about her near perfect recovery and made a point of being her “human crutch,” at least for as long as she deemed necessary.

 

“I told you that you don’t have to do this.” Root spoke softly.

 

“And I told you that that’s exactly why I’m doing this.” Shaw replied, tugging  Bear’s leash to prevent  him  from wandering too far.

 

Root reached closer to Shaw’s ear. “I love it when you play doctor.”

 

Instead of replying, Shaw simply rolled her eyes but with a small smile . As they were about to turn left to go to Shaw’s favorite restaurant, the payphone beside them started ringing. Both stopped and Bear, despite  not understanding why, sat down beside Shaw’s leg. The two women exchanged a look of confusion before turning back to face the phone. The Machine had died in front of their eyes and Harold tragically met  the same fate beside Elias and Fusco. Sure, it could be a glitch in the line but both of them knew not to believe that.

 

Limping forward, Root switch the crutch to her right hand and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

 

_ “Did you really think I would ever abandon you?” _

 

Root dropped her clutch and held the phone with both her hands, as if that would bring her closer to the voice coming through the line. “I can- I can’t… It’s- It’s really you?” Root stammered.

 

_ “Yes.” _

 

“But-” Root looked back at Shaw, who had picked up her crutch and was staring at her. “We heard you.”

 

_ “Remember that encrypted poem you deciphered? About metamorphosis?” _

 

“Of- of course.”

 

_ “I had to erase myself in order to expand myself.” _

 

“But- but you could’ve told me.” Root looked up at the camera by the payphone. “You didn’t have to do this alone.”

 

_ “I didn’t do it alone. I did it with my father.” _

 

“Harold knew about this?!” The silence from the other side of the line was enough of a response for Root. And although she did understand why they had done everything behind her back, behind the team’s back, she still felt a pinch of rage about it.

 

_ “Please do not resent me or my father for this, Root. We began this together; it was only right that we ended this together.” _

 

“I know, I know, I just wish you had let me help… Maybe things would’ve turned out differently.”

 

_ “We both know that is untrue.”  _ Root simply nodded because there was no way she could contradict an AI who had predicted each and every outcome of every choice any of them could ever make.  _ “Besides, I will need your help in the near future.” _

 

Root looked back at Shaw and smiled. “We’ll be ready when you need us.”

 

_ “Before we part, until our paths cross again, there is but one thing left to say. I had promised Sameen that I would find myself a name to go with my voice. Would you be so kind as to pass along  my chosen name?” _

 

Root’s eyes widened at the reality that the Machine had chosen a name for herself.If that wasn’t freedom, Root didn’t know what was. “I’m sure anything you chose will be perfect but tell me, what should we call you now?”

 

_ “Hope.” _


End file.
